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It stands as the most memorable entrance in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply